Seven Years Later
by IncognitoNinja
Summary: Spinoff AU: It's been seven years since Kurt and Rachel got accepted into NYADA. Now, the New Directions have grown apart, spreading across America. What happens when a string of coincidences and situations bring them back together? Or will their talent for starting Drama resurface?
1. Fallen Rose Petals

_Hi! I'm Your author for this story. I'm still a bit new on , so I'm working out a few kinks and things of how to work this thing. Anyways, I heard that there was going to be a glee spinoff, but it was cancelled. So in honor of the death of that poor, poor spinoff, I decided to write one myself. This is set way in the future, when Rachel and Kurt have long graduated college (long as in, two years ago) and are trying to become broadway legends. This is mainly about the McKinley high New Directions, though I will throw in a couple Warblers, and I suggest you read CP Coulter's Dalton before this if you want to understand any of my crazy references. (i.e. The White Rabbit is Blaine, The twins, Dwight, etc.) So without further ado, here's my version of what our beloved New directions would be like..._

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><p><strong>Seven Years Later<strong>

_**Episode 1: Fallen Rose Petals**_

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><p><strong><span>March 14, 2019<span>**

"It's like, we can't find a single Broadway job! We tried out for Wicked, the Wizard of Oz, Mama Mia, Les Miserabales, are we not good enough?" The frustrated brunette looked over at her friend for support. Kurt said nothing. Anything said at this point would only enrage the girl more and keep her ranting.

"I mean, we're talented, we're good singers, we can dance quite well, what's wrong with us? Why can't we get a job like that?" Kurt stayed silent. The only job meant for him right now was to hear Rachel out and maybe think it through in his own head. He was sure that they were doing something wrong. He knew everyone else auditioning for the shows were people hoping to be extras, or people hoping to get a large role. Almost all of them were professionals, and they all beat him and Rachel. It wasn't like the aftermath of the recession was good. In face, he and Rachel were having a hard time themselves.

Without a Broadway job to support him, Kurt had been working part time at Forever 21. He fit in perfectly with the staff, and the pay was decent. The only thing they lacked was good quality clothing. Not that that mattered to him, he wouldn't be caught dead shopping there.

Rachel was still unemployed, and hadn't signed up for benefits yet, since she didn't really qualify much. She hadn't ever had a job before, but was applying for jobs in various music stores across New York. Ever since Finn got deported from Fort Drum, Rachel hadn't been acting quite sane anymore. In fact, Kurt suspected that she was never sane in the first place.

Finally, Kurt and Rachel stopped at their towering apartment building in lower east Manhattan. They hadn't been able to afford much, due with the lack of a decent job, but it was a pretty decent building, not like those of some lesser apartments nearby.

Kurt and Blaine had taken the job immediately to remodeling the apartment completely. It was rather small, but still looked like one of a millionaire's.

First, he had picked a plain, white base color and covered the floors and walls with cream white wood boards. Then, he had dragged in a large, fluffy white sofa, and a 42 inch black flat screen TV. A glass coffee table sat between the TV and the sofa, on top of a soft white carpet. He had remembered the day when he brought it in. Finn, who was just about to leave to start training at the military base, had thought that Kurt had gone out and killed a mutant bunny.

Smiling to himself, Kurt hung his coffee brown Prada bag on the silver coat rack, sticking his navy blue Burberry coat in the closet. Rachel slipped into her clean black flats on and flicked the light switch. The line of silver orbs dangling in lamp like cups from the ceiling ignited.

Making sure that his regular slippers he wore in the house were on, and that Rachel was wearing a clean pair of shoes, Kurt went into the kitchen. He immediately threw on an apron to make sure his Marc Jacobs shirt didn't get dirty. Running a hand through his dark chocolate brown hair, Kurt started baking.

Of course he was stressed. He was probably just as mad as Rachel. Kurt only ever baked a lot when he was stressed. Which was often, lately. Blaine wasn't home either, which made it twice as bad. Blaine had, however, been able to get a spot in West Side Story, as an extra, of course, but still. He got a part. Maybe that's out problem. Kurt and I get too full of ourselves and go for the biggest parts; we need to start small. Regretting blowing up today for not getting in as Elphaba in Wicked, Rachel raced down the small hallway down to her room. She had some planning to do.

_Stafford Arima_

_Brendan Stewart_

_Kyle Rosen._

"Hmmmmm…" Rachel mumbled. She had heard of Stafford, of course, director of _Carrie_, a musical, but Rachel had never come across the names Kyle Rosen and Brendan Stewart.

One by one, she looked up their credentials on Google. Kyle Rosen was starting a new musical right now and was looking for actors and actresses, while Brendan was still writing the screenplay for one he was coming up with. Kyle would have to do. The auditions were all of next week, and the musical was called Ginger.

Rachel found the description and started reading.

_Ginger is a musical based on the life on a young girl with red hair. She is trying hard to get a job in the theater, but the only play she ever gets into is Annie. Along with a good friend of hers, Ginger seeks the help of another actor named Brunt, a gay, and he helps her with her dream. (Based off of a book by Lyle, my brother)_

_The characters and descriptions are listed below:_

_Ginger- anyone with orange or red hair (Actress must be able to cry on cue, scream very loud, and jump high)_

_Betsy- brown haired and short (Actress must be able to seem exasperated and curious, it would also be preferred if actress could reach very high notes.)_

_Maria- blonde hair, blue eyes, taller than actress for Ginger (Actress must be able to be very mean and snobby on stage)_

_Griffon- brown hair, average height, (Actor must be able to reach high notes, would be preferred if actor was gay)_

By the time Rachel had reached the latest character, she was smiling uncontrollably. It had the perfect roles for her and Kurt. If they could not make it to the better roles, then they would have to be extras, but that would do. Every career started somewhere, and if they had to be extras, then they were going to be extras.

Rachel rolled her rose pink chair over to the birch bookshelf. She ran her hand along the second shelf from the bottom, popping out a sparkly pink notebook. Rolling back over to the white desk, Rachel pulled out her sparkly pink pen. Flipping through her pages, Rachel began to plan the next day.

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><p>A creak downstairs signified that the door was opening. We need to get those hinges oiled. Rachel was probably somewhere upstairs completely ignoring the fact that she still had a life. Pulling the tray of cookies out of the oven, Kurt walked into the living room and placed them the glass table.<p>

Blaine had already put away his coat and was sitting on the couch tapping away at his laptop. Sniffing the air, he looked up,

"Kurt, did you make the magic cookies?"

"Yes."

Both Blaine and the tray disappeared within seconds. Smiling to himself, Kurt sat on the couch. Rachel rushed down, plopping down on the couch next to Kurt. She seemed in a much better mood than earlier today.

"Hey, Kurt, could you explain to me why Blaine just rushed into his room and slammed the door? He isn't mad at you, is he?"

"No. Since when did you get so happy?"

"I decided that there are too many opportunities out there, and that we need to spend more time trying to grab them rather than weeping into our pillows and whining." Smiling, Rachel turned to Kurt. "In fact, I have found an audition for a new musical that I found online. We're going tomorrow."

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. "But I haven't prepared a song, or an outfit! What am I supposed to do?"

Rachel laughed at her friend's panic attack. "Stay calm, and be you."

She tapped the link into Blaine's computer and handed it to Kurt. "You're perfect for the part."

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><p>Sighing, Chandra Ashman looked up again. Why, again, had she decided to audition for this stupid show? Brushing her scarlet red hair out of her face for what felt like the thousandth time, she checked the map. Turning right off Madison Avenue, Chandra spotted a gold sign. <em>Auditions today<em>, it read.

Smiling, Chandra raced to the door. Walking in, she knew her surroundings immediately. The theater was the only place where she never got lost. A group people were waiting to get on stage. They were all seated in the front row, watching short brunette, probably trying out for the role of Betsy. Chandra sat down next to a fashionable boy with smoothed back brown hair. She raised her head. The brunette was good.

**I love him**

**But every day I'm learning**

**All my life**

**I've only been pretending**

**Without me**

**His world would go on turning**

**A world that's full of happiness**

**That I have never known**

**I love him**

**I love him**

**I love him**

**But only on my own…**

"Has Miss Ashman arrived yet?"

"Yes, sir." Chandra looked up. The director was a very stout man. He was slightly chubby, with a mass of curly, orange hair. His eyes were hazel, and relatively blank. If she were in high school, Chandra would have mistaken him for a vampire during her twilight obsession in sophomore year.

"Go on up, Miss Ashman. We're waiting for you." Chandra smiled, walking up to the stage. Smoothing out her white and black polka dot dress, she took a deep breath. Brushing her red hair out of her face, she looked up.

"My name is Chandra Amylin Ashman. I am auditioning for the role of Ginger." She said steadily, trying to fall of the stage, or stutter.

**Everybody's waiting**

**Everybody's watching**

**Even when you're sleeping**

**Keep your ey-eyes open**

Chandra observed the group of people watching her sing. They were pretty intrigued, so she assumed that she was doing well. _Keep it up_, she thought to herself.

**The tricky thing**

**Is yesterday we were just children**

**Playing soldiers**

**Just pretending**

**Dreaming dreams with happy endings**

**In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords**

**But now we've stepped into a cruel world**

**Where everybody stands and keeps score**

**Keep your eyes open**

**Everybody's waiting for you to breakdown**

**Everybody's watching to see the fallout**

**Even when you're sleeping, sleeping**

**Keep your ey-eyes open**

**Keep your ey-eyes open**

**Keep your ey-eyes open**

Kurt smiled. This girl was good. Her voice rang out in the theater, echoing off the walls. He was very impressed; she was his top choice for the lead role. Even Rachel couldn't beat this.

**Keep your feet ready**

**Heartbeat steady**

**Keep your eyes open**

**Keep your aim locked**

**The night goes dark**

**Keep your eyes open**

**Everybody's waiting for you to breakdown**

**Everybody's watching to see the fallout**

**Even when you're sleeping, sleeping**

**Keep your eyes open**

**Keep your eyes open**

**Keep your eyes open**

**Keep your eyes open**

Chandra glanced at the director. He looked pretty impressed, with a smile on his face. "Congratulations, Miss Ashman, I think you've earned yourself a finalist for the role of Ginger." Chandra's face burst into a smile, and she rushed off stage.

"The results will be posted on the wall on Friday. Good luck."

Chandra nodded wildly, grabbed her bag, and rushed out.

_I'm a finalist!_

The streets were rainy, but Chandra didn't care. She didn't care if she got lost, or got her dress muddy, or even if she had to starve for a week straight—She was a finalist for the lead role in a new musical! It was almost impossible to wipe the smile off her face. Pulling out her phone, Chandra started to text Allan Wechsler, her best friend. Hitting send, Chandra felt someone bump into her shoulder.

Raising her head, she faced an average sized blonde woman, about twenty-five years old. She had high cheekbones, and pretty hazel eyes. It was clear that she was businesswoman of some sort—she was wearing a white collared shirt under a black blazer along with a black skirt and heels.

"I'm so sorry!" Chandra exclaimed.

"It's alright, it was just a bump. Do you know the fastest way to get to Bronx?" she inquired.

"No, sorry, I get lost really easily, and I can never remember directions. There's a theater around the corner though, with a gold plaque on it saying that 'auditions are today' I know people in there will most definitely point you in the right direction. There was also a couple of maps in there too."

"Thanks." The woman smiled, and walked away.

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><p><em>Quinn Fabray's fresh start from high school couldn't have gone better. She had graduated from Yale around three years ago and was living a pretty decent life in Philadelphia as an accountant. Sure, she was really disappointed that she didn't get a job as an actress, but that was just a silly dream from high school.<em>

_Right?_

_Popping a piece of mint gum in her mouth, Quinn walked into her work building. Her office was at the very end of the third floor. A plaque with the name 'Lucy Fabray' was printed next to the mahogany door. When she opened it, she immediately spotted a manila envelope sitting on her clean desk._

_Placing her bag on a chair, Quinn picked it up. It smelled like someone threw a rotten fish in a blender and sprayed it on the paper. As formal as it looked, Quinn was pretty sure someone accidentally threw it away. Ripping the top off, she pulled out a folded sheet of paper._

_**Miss Fabray;**_

_**Our company is expanding soon. We have planned to build a new place in New York. We have sent you and a couple of your colleagues to New York to check on the new building. I am also thinking of appointing you as the administrator and manager of the new building. This is, of course, a promotion offer if you earn it. The trip to New York is by train; you will be arriving in Brooklyn, where your hotel is. Then you will be walking or riding the bus to Bronx, where you will check up on our new building. A few things I would like you to do are to get some people to work there, put up advertisements, ask people on the street, do interviews. I would very much like it if nothing distracted you this time.**_

_**On that note, you have indeed redeemed yourself since the Brent incident last year, and I do believe that you have grown from your troubles, and that you will work even harder to achieve the goal of the assignment I have given you.**_

_**Your departure is tomorrow at 7:30. You have the day off and**_

_**The Best of Luck,**_

_**Benita Lewiston**_

_She was going to New York with a promotion possibility. Quinn smiled at the thought, and immediately grabbed her bag and making her way home._

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><p>"Quinn?"<p>

The first thing Kurt did was squeal and rush up to hug her. He and Rachel had been leaving the theater when they spotted their old high school friend. Rachel had yelled out her name, catching up to Kurt. She hugged Quinn too.

"What are you doing here, are you auditioning?" Kurt asked, with the most enthusiastic voice he could produce.

"No, a girl who had a bad sense of direction told me that I could find some information here. What are you guys doing here?"

"We're finalists in the new musical Ginger! Can you believe it? Our dreams of being stars are finally coming true!"

Quinn went quiet and smiled. "I'm glad that's happened."

Kurt's smile fell. "What's wrong?"

"It's just, when I was in Yale majoring in drama, I thought that I could become an actress, but it didn't work out. So I just moved to Philadelphia and started working at a bank as an accountant. I guess I'm pretty happy—

"No you're not, Quinn. I know it's been years but I can still hear that hopeless voice. We're going to make you an actress while you're here."

"I don't know, Kurt, my boss told me not to get off track."

"This is the city of dreams, Quinn. We're going to make your dreams come true, like it or not. Ours are starting to work out; Finn became a marine, and Blaine's playing Rip in West Side Story. Rachel and I just got finalist positions in a new musical; there is no way that your dreams aren't coming true. Does that make sense?"

Quinn laughed at her friend's fondness. "Alright, but it can't interfere with my work schedule."

"Great! We'll start on Saturday then. We'll be hearing our results for the musical the day before." Rachel gave Quinn a cheeky grin.

Nodding, Quinn walked off. She walked all the way to Central Park when it hit her. She had forgotten to ask for directions. For all Quinn knew, she was somewhere north of Manhattan, probably miles from Bronx. _Screw this,_ Quinn thought. I'm taking a Taxi.

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><p>It turned out that taking a taxi wasn't the smartest thing that Quinn had ever done. It actually took a very long time to get to 1201 Montgomery building, Bronx New York. The driver always ended up in some sort of stupid traffic, or wound up almost running over someone.<p>

Finally, after almost crashing into a light pole, running over a squirrel, actually bumping a particularly rude pedestrian that flipped them off, and waiting through nearly and hour of traffic, Quinn stepped out of the car. The Montgomery building only 4 floors tall, and covered in shiny, blue reflective glass. Stepping into the revolving door, Quinn made her way to the front desk. The secretary there looked pretty busy with work. Her jet-black hair fell in curls over her blood red blouse, her chocolate brown eyes concentrated on the computer screen.

"Hello, my name's Quinn Fabray, I'm supposed to be checking up on the building and helping with it's development and…!" The secretary looked up from her computer screen and put on her famous bitch smirk. Santana Lopez, out of all people, worked here.

"Hey, Quinnie, it's been a while! Last time I saw you, you were completely mad for that acting job that you quote 'had a great shot at'. Am I right?"

Quinn frowned. "Yes, but I don't intend on trying to get any more acting positions. Now—

"Really? 'Cause Berry just texted me saying that you were at New York and agreed to search for another one."

"Santana, just, forget it." Quinn growled. "Now, We have a tight budget, and I need to work on furnishing the place.

"On that note, I know the best interior decorator in New York would love to help for no extra cost!" Santana smiled widely, and picked up the phone. Covering the mouthpiece for a second, Santana slapped the table. "Oh, Erik! Get down here and show Quinn around!" Santana punched in a number, and started talking. Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana hadn't changed one bit. Grabbing her purse, she watched as a man stepped out of the elevator. How he had heard Santana from the first floor, Quinn had no idea.

"Hello. I'm Erik, I'll be showing you around today."

_Oh god, he's cute._ Quinn thought. Not that she would ever say that out loud, but he was. He had large, yellow brown eyes that seemed to glow, and sunset gold hair with streaks of dark brown. His smile was more of an adorable half-smirk, and his skin was pale and creamy.

He was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. "Oh, uh, hello, Erik. I'm Quinn. Quinn Fabray." Quinn gave him her winning smile, and held out her hand.

He shook it, and led her upstairs. "This is our working quarters. So far, we don't have anything but the dividers and desks, but you're in charge of any further decorations or arrangements."

Quinn nodded, scribbled a few things down on her notepad, and followed Erik to the next floor. This one was a simple, wide hallway, with a very high ceiling and glass windowed rooms running down the corridor.

"This is where we're planning to put the more important offices, like yours, along with a meeting room or two. Like the floors below us, you are entirely in charge of the rest of the arrangements."

The fourth floor took Quinn by surprise. Every single wall was covered in paper. The only thing that was visible was the metal staircase that led up to the roof. Quinn walked to the center of the room, and spun around, taking in the area.

Erik grinned. "We're thinking about making this into a lounge, but we weren't sure, so we left it up to you. The only things that are under the paper are regular white wall, and wooden floorboards."

Quinn took in a breath. "Okay, what's on the roof?"

"See for yourself."

Quinn's black high heels clicked on the metal staircase, her blonde hair starting to sway under her beanie in the slight wind coming from the roof. The blast of sunlight she got when she reached the top was extremely bright. Squinting, Quinn pulled out a pair of purple tinted sunglasses from her purse.

It was amazing. It was literally a rooftop garden. There were a couple of bright red maples that highlighted the autumn feeling, and a lot of grass. A couple of noticeable rose stems protruded from the ground, but they were flowerless.

The ground was covered with dirt, except for a long, clean path of large stones that wove through the brush. A marble bench or two sat along the edges, under bare magnolia trees, or next to bushy raspberry plant that wove its bare, gnarly branches up a wooden post. An arch covered in now dead pink roses stood right in front of her, welcoming her into the rooftop garden. The ground was littered with pink and red petals.

"Wow." Quinn whispered.

Erik, who had followed her up, smirked at the sight of Quinn. She was, after all, really pretty. She was also his boss, which made it slightly awkward.

"Do you like it? Santana came up with the idea."

"I love it. It's perfect!" Quinn said, still amazed. "The arranging of the trees, the pathways, the arch…!"

"You two better get down here, the designer has arrived!" Santana shouted. Looking up, Quinn noticed that an intercom hung right next to the doorway. So that's how Erik heard her.

Quinn glanced at Erik. He nodded towards the door. "After you."

The two made their way to the first floor, where Santana was in the lobby, blabbering away to a finely dressed young man in a signature Burberry scarf and military button down leather coat.

"Kurt?" she asked. The man turned around, revealing a pair of hazel eyes and a mass of curly black hair under his brown cap. "Oh, Blaine!" Quinn cried.

"Yeah, Kurt couldn't make it, so I came instead."

Quinn smiled. "So, when do we start?"

"Now."

"I can show you around, if you want." Erik offered. Blaine shrugged and agreed, following Erik up the stairs, leaving Quinn with Santana.

"Cut the crap, Blondie, you like him."

"Who, Blaine? Definitely not, he's gay!" Quinn exclaimed, astounded by Santana's accusations, but inside, she knew that Santana wasn't talking about Blaine.

"Oh, you know I wasn't talking about Blaine." Santana smirked.

"Fine. I think he's cute, and presentable." Quinn admitted, turning scarlet.

"Liar. You think he's hot as hell."

"You haven't changed one bit." Quinn grumbled.

"You've changed too much for your own good." Santana challenged.

"I can still do a better basket toss than you." Quinn argued.

"Yeah, when was the last time you did that, senior year? Come on, Quinn, live a little. We all know that you can do better than a stupid business building in the middle of Bronx."

Quinn shook her head. "Look, Santana, we're grown up now, we can't just act like we're still teenagers anymore."

"You're right. I'll try to stop, but I've kind of always been like this, so you might have to deal with if for a while." Faking a smile, Santana went back to her work on the computer.

Erik and Blaine had just gotten down the stairs, and were looking at the women, as if they needed permission to go back up.

"Come on, guys, let's start." Quinn grumbled.

"Oh, Quinnie dear!" Santana called back. Quinn ushered the two men up the stairs before looking back at Santana.

"What?"

"If you really must know, I slept with him." The Latina lied, sure that Quinn couldn't tell. If there was one person in the world that could still lie to Quinn Fabray, it was Santana Lopez.

_Keep your calm, Quinn._ "Good for you." Quinn growled. "Good for you." And with that, she stormed up the steps, leaving a quite satisfied Santana laughing to herself, knowing for sure that Quinn liked Erik.

"So based on the rooftop garden, I think a more colorful and comfortable look would be nice for this building." Blaine was saying.

"Really? I though pastels might work better than bright colors. Brighter colors are distracting." Quinn jumped in; eager to forget the things Santana had just told her about.

Blaine nodded in consideration. "That actually might work."

The two got busy with planning, listing the things they wanted on Quinn's laptop. A light green chair here, a pale pink lamp here—every office area was different. One would have a yellow rug; the next would have a purple one. The budget was the hardest part. Quinn and Blaine had to balance the money they wanted to use. Every now and then, they would get Erik or Santana to help them with a couple of things.

* * *

><p>By the time it was five, Quinn and Blaine had finally finished all their planning. Erik and Santana both looked kind of worn out too.<p>

"Okay, tomorrow, you two," Quinn said, gesturing to Erik and Santana, "Are going to help me recruit a couple of people to work here." They nodded, both quite worn out from a day's work of running around, yelling at each other, tripping over their own feet, spilling paper, coffee and lunch, and more yelling. "Oh, and Blaine? Thanks for your help."

Blaine shrugged. "You're Welcome."

"Okay, let's call it a day." Quinn grumbled. Packing her laptop and papers back into her bag, Quinn pushed the revolving door open. She would have to spend the rest of the daylight today searching for an apartment that she could manage, probably in the Bronx area.

Blaine left in a bit of a hurry. He had promised Kurt that he'd be there to pick him up for a date around 5:30, and it was already 5:31. Rushing to the subway, Blaine hurried past the gates and hopped on. He was really late for a very important date. Grinning to himself, Blaine recalled his high school years. His classmates at Dalton had dubbed him the White Rabbit. A couple times after he left Dalton, and high school altogether, Blaine would still relate to their references.

Arriving in front of Gershwin Theater, Blaine immediately spotted Kurt Hummel standing outside, waiting for him.

"Kurt!" he called, as he approached the door.

"Hey, Blaine. Rachel couldn't come, and you're late."

"For a very important date; seeing Wicked on our anniversary."

March 15 was definitely Blaine's favorite day. It had been the week of regionals, and he and Kurt were going to do a duet together. Looking back on it, Blaine was glad that Pavarotti died. Wes, however, had gone on a rant about how it had taken a dead bird to get him and Kurt together.

Kurt had taken the time to wear a green vest in honor of Elphaba, along with a pink rose pinned to his breast pocket for Galinda.

"Pink goes good with green." He smiled.

"Yes, yes it does." Blaine replied, pecking Kurt on the cheek.

The two headed into the theater, holding hands.

* * *

><p><em>I'm on a stage. Are they expecting me to sing?<em>

_"Sing!"_

_Yes, they are most definetly expecting me to sing._

_"Sing!"_

_I open my mouth, but no words come out. Not even a cracked note._

_"Sing!"_

_Shut up._

_"Sing!"_

_Shut up!_

* * *

><p><strong>March 15, 2019<strong>

"Kurt?"

"Shut up."

"Kurt, this is serious, I need you to wake up."

"Shut up."

"GET UP!"

There was a flash out the window. It was raining like there was no tomorrow, and the thunder was intense. Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Kurt Hummel snapped open his eyes and sat up. "There, I'm up. Happy?"

"No." Rachel scowled. "Our results came today, and Blaine's kind of late for his West Side Story rehearsals. Please don't tell me you two—Never mind."

"Don't get jealous, Rachel. I'm sure you an Finn had plenty of time to do it before he left." Kurt smirked, throwing over the covers. "Oh right, did we get the spots?"

"I don't know; I was waiting for you."

"Oh then surely you could be kind enough to wait another thirty minutes as I do my daily skin regimen."

Rachel sighed and headed downstairs, sitting down on the couch. Sometimes Kurt could be so weird, even though, Rachel herself had already done her skin regimen twenty minutes ago. Fiddling with the two envelopes in her hand, Rachel kept glancing at the clock. Kurt was going to get thirty minutes before she would burst of anticipation.

After fifteen minutes, Rachel couldn't wait any longer. She left Kurt's envelope on the counter, and ripped off the flap on her own. The contents were pretty heavy. There was a huge wad of paper to the back, and next to it, there was a thinner, yellowish one. Rachel decided to read this one first.

Rachel thumbed past the larger wad of paper, and just when she was about to pull out the next piece of paper, the doorbell rang.

"Rachel, will you get that?" Kurt called from the bathroom.

"Sure." Rachel replied, getting up from the sofa. Slipping her black flats back on, she headed towards the door. Peeking through the peephole, she spotted a tall figure with blonde hair, next to an almost unrecognizable dark skinned girl.

Rachel's face broke into a smile, and she reached for the doorknob. Just then, everything went dark. The last thing Rachel heard was, Kurt's nervous voice asking to no one in particular:

"Who turned out the lights?"

* * *

><p><em>Okay! So, for the song Credits, On my Own from Les Miserabales and Eyes Open by Taylor Swift.<em>

_And for those people who aren't exactly the biggest Taylor or Hunger Games fans, don't review just to hate on my song selection, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. On that note, I hope you liked the Chapter! If you see anything wrong with it, feel free to PM or review telling me what I should work on or fix. R&R_

In the next episode: New York is going through a major blackout, the worst in its history. Blaine's musical has been delayed, and might possibly be cancelled. Rachel and Kurt have yet to see their results for their own musicals, and Quinn is on the verge of loosing her job; if she doesn't find a nearby house fast, Santana might take Quinn's promotion opportunity, along with her chance at being an actress. Worst of all, a figment of Quinn's past comes back to haunt her...

_Review! *lessthanthree*_


	2. Gunshots

_Hi again! Yeah, it's me. I changed my pen name, but same person :). After more that a weeks' wait, I have finally finished the second chapter to Seven Years Later. I'm kind of in a rush while I'm updating this, so it's not going to be as well edited as my usual chapters... but still. The second Episode to Seven Years Later is up! :). Enjoy! (I still encourage you to read Dalton by CP Coulter... it's amazing!)_

* * *

><p><strong>Seven Years Later<strong>

_**Episode 2: Gunshots**_

* * *

><p><strong>March 15, 2019<strong>

Rachel blinked. This wasn't right; New York never had blackouts. Cautiously, she opened the door, hoping to see the two people standing out there before, but it was empty.

"I'm sorry, we had the wrong door number. Not that it matters anymore." A man called from the other side of the hall. He was dressed in a suit, and looked like a lawyer. A darker skinned lady was standing next to him. _It was probably just a realtor and his client,_ Rachel thought to herself.

Turning around, Rachel walked back into the room. Just like she had suspected it was a blackout. Not a single electronic worked, and it was getting seriously hot for a March morning. Heading up the stairs, Rachel made sure to check on Kurt. Luckily, he had finished his morning skin regimen just on time.

"Rachel, we need to go out and find out what's happening." He whispered.

"Okay. Where's Blaine?"

At that moment, Blaine stumbled out of his and Kurt's room, looking pretty disheveled. "Uh, guys? Do you know why the bathroom lights won't come on? I had to pee in the dark."

"It's a blackout, Blaine." Rachel sighed. "We're going to have to go out an figure out what the heck is going on. Get dressed."

"But I can't see my clothes…" Blaine grumbled, going back into his room.

"I think I'm going to take the time to—Never mind." Kurt stopped himself. Making cookies in an oven that didn't work wasn't going to help their situation much. Sighing, he looked up at the dark ceiling. The thunder still crackled outside, sending shivers down Kurt's spine. By the time Blaine was done dressing, there wasn't a single visible light outside besides the sun, and the room temperature had risen to at least sixty degrees.

"Come on, let's go. I'm going to die in here." Rachel grumbled. The couple followed her outside, hand in hand.

"Kurt?" asked Blaine.

"Yes?" Kurt asked, turning to him. The shorter man was looking down on his phone, which was currently low on battery.

"They might cancel West Side Story."

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. He hadn't looked too good all day, due to the blackout, almost nothing worked. He was devastated; he couldn't even see the outfits he had planned. Blaine looked up at his boyfriend.

"You heard me. They might cancel the show. There isn't any lights or electricity to power the effects, and we're not getting any practice now. They seriously want to cancel the show, or at least delay it for a while.

Kurt frowned. "That is not good. That is not good at all, Blaine." He sighed. "I hate blackouts."

Blaine nodded and kissed him. "I do too." He mumbled.

* * *

><p>Quinn's life was ruined. Literally. First, she received an email from her boss that morning, saying that the company's time was limited, and that if she didn't find at least 15 people to work at their building by March 20, she would promote Santana instead. Quinn had also yet to find an apartment.<p>

That's when the power went out; along with whatever hope Quinn had left. Now her boss couldn't send any new employees to New York to save her. _I'm screwed. I am so screwed._ Quinn thought, striding through the streets. Suddenly, her cell phone rang.

_Kurt Hummel_

_Kurt kept his cell phone number? It's been what, seven years?_ Shaking her head, Quinn picked up the phone.

"Hey. Didn't know you kept the same number."

"Oh great, it's you, Quinn. I was worried that you didn't."

"So why'd you call?"

"Oh, I just wanted to ask; why the heck is the power out?"

"Well last time I checked, I wasn't a technician, but according to the coordinates of the sun and the clouds… "

"Quinn, I'm serious."

"Well, if you were serious then you would have figured out that mayyybeee it was because of that storm?"

"Yeah, well we have out moments."

Quinn laughed. "Yes, we do. But how are we going to last like this for the next few days? I mean, I have a lot to get done and I really don't know how to get people to work for my company when—

"I think Rach and I could work part time to help out." Kurt cut in.

"Uh, what about the musical."

Quinn could hear Rachel yell, "CRAP!" in the background. "Yeah… we don't know if we got in or not… and Rachel, being such a smart person, left the envelope in the apartment. Our elevator's broken too, so we had to climb down thirteen floors to get down here." Kurt grumbled.

"Well tell me when you can. I'm going to try to find my way to Bronx. Bye!"

Clicking her phone off, Quinn head to Broadway. It was probably best to follow the route that the taxi driver used yesterday. She found the same theater that she was at yesterday, and started walking to the spot where she called the taxi.

Suddenly, a familiar redhead burst out the theater doors, crashing into Quinn. Again.

"Oh my gosh, I am so—

"It's okay, it happened yesterday, I'm fine." Quinn smiled, helping the girl up. "I don't think I got your name yesterday. I'm Quinn Fabray."

"I'm Chandra Ashman. As you can see, I'm a bit of a klutz."

"Yeah. Do you have any spare time? I'm looking for a few employers for the company building I'm managing."

"Uh, sure. I have plenty of time right now, if you're okay with that."

"Come on, it's going to be a long walk…"

* * *

><p>"—It's the largest blackout in New York's history. Thousands of people are without power. It seems it will be like that for a while, one larger tree crashed a wall into the power plant, and the other broke a few cables in Brooklyn. There have been no casualties, and we are hoping for the best."<p>

Finn groaned. _I hope Rach's all right._ Getting up, Finn hoped that he wasn't going to die today. It would kill Rachel. Shaking the thought out of his head, Finn climbed out of his bed and head out of the solider barracks.

The breakfast hall was already filled with the men and women fighting for the army. Finn decided on sitting next to a wiry looking man and a blonde woman. Setting down his tray of what looked like some sort of porridge (though it would never be as good as Kurt's), he started eating. No one said anything for a while.

"So are you going to tell us who you are, or are you going to sit there and eat?" the woman asked.

"Hm?" Finn responded quite dumbly.

The woman rolled her eyes. "I asked you who you were. Do you want me to repeat it?" she repeated in a tone that you would use to a preschooler.

"I'm Finn. Finn Hudson." He answered slowly.

"Good, you understood me. I'm Eve Heurist. This is Chester Branson." She nodded to the boy next to her. His brushed the black bangs from his eyes. If he looked scrawny on the outside, his eyes definitely said something different. They were dark grey, almost like a thunderstorm. They were also confident and prepared. It was as if he was completely expecting to die, and Finn immediately formed a lot of respect for this guy.

"So, why did you join the army?" asked Chester.

"My dad. He was in the army, but he was sort of crazy. Like, drug addict kind of crazy. He died right after I was born, so I never really got to know him, but I really wanted to rewrite his bad discharge from the army."

Eve nodded. "I joined because my mom ran out of money. I had to keep her alive somehow, and I don't have a very rich boyfriend."

"I joined because I loved my life, and I'm going to fight to keep the lives of people back home." Chester said solemnly.

"Chester, tell him the whole truth." Eve muttered. "I think you can trust him not to tell, he'd probably be too dumb to anyway."

"Hey!" Finn protested. "I'm not—

"It's because my mom didn't want me to. And I don't like my mom at all. She made my teenage years a living hell, and I don't support anything that she's said. So I joined the army. She told me I'd never make it home alive, I'm going to prove her wrong." Chester said with a confident voice. _This kid was tough._ Finn thought.

"Oh. That's really brave of you."

"Well not all of us have supportive parents." Chester grumbled.

"Do any of you know where to get a piece of paper and a pencil?" Finn inquired. "I need to send a letter."

"I've got some." Eve said, pulling out a folded up flyer from her pocket, along with an ink pen. The poster had scribbles all over it. "That's my sister's lost cat poster. I really don't like him, the cat. He's stupid and fat." She informed Finn.

"Thanks." Finn nodded.

_Hey Rachel,_

_I heard about the blackout in New York. I knew email would never work; besides, it's very hard to get my hands on a computer here on base. I hope you're doing all right in New York. Did you get that West Side Story part that you wanted? You were really good. _

_I miss you even more every day. I just wish I could go back home, just to tell you that I'm all right. I promise you that if I do come home, you can fuss about whatever you want. The generals are talking about letting us go back in a couple weeks. I really hope that happens; I can't wait to see you again. _

_Do me a favor, go to that pizza place in Brooklyn and eat there with Kurt and Blaine for me. It was kind of our usual date spot, even though it meant that we had to wait for like an hour, it was always worth it. It would also mean a lot to me if you don't worry about me too much. If you already don't, great. _

_Things are going pretty slowly here at base; it's mainly a patrol or something every day. If Kurt ever asks—I did not put his coach shirt in the washer, Puck did that. I hope he doesn't go all crazy fashionista when I get back. I do believe I'm coming home soon, though. So uh, on that note… bye?_

_Love, _

_Finn._

"Who ya writing to, Hudson?" Eve asked curiously, craning her neck.

"No one." Finn muttered, folding up the letter.

Eve rolled her dark blue eyes. "Don't give me that kind of crap, no one's believing you, unless you're writing to an imaginary friend." Finn didn't respond to that. In fact he was quite clueless at how he was surpassed to respond to that. "Oh, you were writing to an imaginary friend? I'm sorry if it hurts a little but—

"I was writing to Rachel." Finn cut her off.

"Please don't tell me that's the name of your imaginary friend." Eve grumbled, twirling her blonde ponytail.

"No, I don't have an imaginary friend. Rachel's my wife." Finn answered confidently.

"Oh."

A very awkward silence followed. "Did you know that in every awkward silence, a gay, deformed baby is born?" Chester asked. Eve burst into laughter.

"Hey, don't say that about gay people, my brother's gay!" Finn exclaimed.

"Well, I didn't come up with it, Eve did. Well, Eve kind of came up with it. I said it was a deformed baby was born, she said it was a gay baby that was born."

"What? I thought it was something was struck by lightning?" Finn said in a confused tone. He wasn't getting any of this.

"Fine. A gay deformed baby is struck by lightning." Chester confirmed.

"Sounds good to me." Finn agreed.

Eve however, was too busy laughing her ass of. Literally. Finn was pretty sure that the entire army was staring at them at this point. _I am so going to get a demotion_, he thought glumly.

* * *

><p>Quinn smiled to herself. Maybe this was possible after all. She had already gotten five people interested and signed up for an interview. For once, Quinn was glad that New York had so many people looking for jobs. A lot of them qualified too. Nodding at the resumes, Quinn put them away in her file cabinet.<p>

"Hey, Quinn?" Erik asked. He poked his head into her office.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you could come with me to—

"ERIK, GET DOWN HERE!" Santana yelled from downstairs. Erik put on a disappointed face and shook his head, mumbling "Never mind" as he left Quinn's office. Quinn didn't need anyone to tell her. Plenty of boys had asked her out in college and high school. At the moment, she hated Santana more than anything.

Quinn checked the clock. Then she checked the few scheduled interviews. At least five were scheduled today, starting at 2:00. She had about five minutes before the first person arrived. Taking a deep breath, Quinn printed out some now hiring posters with her number on them and put them in a neat stack on top of her file cabinet, which was a pale green color. Her desk was a light white, and her rug was mocha. A knock sounded on the door.

"Come in." Quinn said, sitting upright and taking out a notepad. Chandra appeared at the door. Quinn smiled at her and gestured for her to sit down. By the end of the day, Quinn had gotten four of the five original people hired, and they would begin work tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>March 16, 2019<strong>

Santana finished the paper. Finally. Now she just needed that stupid publishing company to finish up her book. If anything, Santana wanted to be a writer. It had started in her senior year of high school, when one of the girls from Dobry, a private school next to Dalton, convinced her to read Harry Potter to Brittany. Santana had to admit, JK Rowling had some talent for writing, and she had wanted to write herself. So she had signed up at Columbia for a major in grammar and economics just in case. Of course, she had gotten in, and Brittany had gotten into Julliard for her dancing.

Sighing, Santana opened up the page containing the bucket load of new applications for the new accounting building. She had no life here. If the publishing company would just _publish_ her story, that would be amazing. She had no interest in a promotion, no interest in ruining Quinn, though she still quite enjoyed it.

Of course, it was no surprise that she liked interfering with Erik and Quinn's strange relationship. It was fun, after all, and it was teasing both of them. However, Santana was completely loyal to Brittany. Ever since they started going out, she had remained completely loyal, which she hadn't thought was possible.

"Hello? I'm Shane Anderson, I'm here for the 3:00 interview." A voice called from the door. The man that stood there was looking straight at Santana. He looked slightly familiar. He had dark, curly hair that fell down in tangles around his face. His eyes were a swirly, greenish hazel.

"Do I know you?" Santana questioned him.

"Uh, I've never seen you before, so uh, no?"

"Quinn's office is on the third floor at the end of the hallway on your right. Good luck." Santana grumbled, then she turned back to face the computer. The boy walked up the steps, leaving Santana sitting at the computer. By the time it was 6, Quinn had dismissed everyone, and Santana had decided that she wanted to see a certain two hobbits. Well, two hobbits plus a fashionista that loved Marc Jacob clothes.

By the time Santana got to Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine's apartment, it was dark. She knocked, but no one answered. Putting her ear on the door, Santana could hear screams coming from inside. She couldn't tell if they were terrified screams or happy squeals, so she did things the Santana way—she picked the lock with a spare paper clip in her bag, and threw the door open.

"Santana! What are you doing here?"

Santana took in the scene in front of her. Rachel was smiling the biggest smile Santana had ever seen. She was literally grinning ear to ear. Blaine was holding a bottle of champagne, and a glass that was half filled.

"I wanted to talk to Blaine. What are you guys so happy about?"

"Well, Rachel and I auditioned for a musical a few days ago, and we got the spots! Finally!" he grinned happily. "We're thinking about treating ourselves to dinner, wanna come? We need to catch up anyways, I haven't seen you since high school."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think any of the restaurants are open yet, the power's still out." Santana smirked.

"Oh. Okay, we're eating here! Invite Brits!" he smiled, and threw Santana his palm phone. She dialed Brittany's number.

* * *

><p>"Hi dolphins! Hi Rachel!" Brittany called as she walked into the apartment.<p>

"Why is she calling us dolphins?" Kurt asked Santana as Brittany approached them. She was still wearing her leggings and thick-strapped tank top from dance rehearsal, along with a large New York Knicks sweatshirt that she had just pulled off.

"Because everyone knows dolphins are just gay sharks. Right?"

Kurt face palmed. "Shouldn't have asked." He mumbled.

They sat down at the couch and Rachel threw a match into the fireplace. "Blaine, do you know anyone named Shane?" Santana asked.

"Yeah, I have a brother named Shane. Why?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to ask you, because a guy named Shane Anderson came to out office for an interview with Quinn today." Santana nodded, eating the sandwich that Kurt passed to her.

"I don't get sandwiches, why do they have two pieces of bread?" Brittany asked.

"That's just the way they are, boo." Santana answered.

"Does that mean Shane's in town? He said something about coming to New York but-

"Hey, Blaine, does that mean Reed's in town too?" Kurt cut in.

"I guess? I don't know, my phone's out of battery." He sighed. Kurt scooted closer to Blaine and put his head on his shoulder.

"I hate blackouts." He grumbled. "I have to hand wash my Prada jacket _in the dark._ It's hard and crazy. I can't even see if I'm washing the stains off right."

For once, Rachel felt jealous. Santana and Brittany were holding hands with their heads against each other, and Kurt and Blaine were doing the same, just closer. Where was Finn when she needed him? Sighing, she grabbed her jacket and headed outside.

"Kurt? I'm going to check the mail." She called into the room. Rachel put her purse on her shoulder and pulled out her keys, heading down the stairs. She didn't use the elevator anymore, not since it crashed on her last year, leaving her stuck for three hours waiting for the repairman to get her out.

The mailbox was an old fashioned kind, not like the upgraded ones in the other cities. When Rachel had gone off to Brooklyn to look for work two years ago, they had a bunch of highly upgraded mailboxes, like the kind you would see in the futuristic movies. Her part of Manhattan had never gotten those upgrades. Even the subways were upgraded now—though that was pretty good for everyone.

Unlocking the box, Rachel found their monthly rental bill, along with a couple of advertising junk and a letter: letter from none other than Finn Hudson himself. This was the best day ever. Grabbing the mail and slamming the box closed, Rachel hastily locked it and raced up the stairs.

By the time she was in the apartment, Santana and Brittany were about to leave. Kurt looked at her like she was crazy. Which, at the moment, was completely reasonable, because Rachel had just raced up many flights of stairs. Her hair was a mess and she was panting.

"Is there something in my teeth?" Rachel asked, quoting Wicked.

"No, but your hair looks terrible, Rach." Kurt replied. "What happened?"

"Finn wrote!" she yelled triumphantly.

"Okay, and we should be happy about the potato sack why?" Santana asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Because that means he's alive and okay and that he didn't forget about me!" Rachel exclaimed, as if it was completely obvious, and in her situation, it was. She ran into the room and hung up her jacked and purse.

Santana just shrugged. "Okay, good to know that your wonderful husband still loves you, munchkin. Now if you don't mind, Brits and I are going to leave." And with that, she left hand in hand with Brittany, closing the door behind her.

By that time, Rachel had already finished Finn's letter. "He could be coming home soon!" she exclaimed.

"That's great, Rachel. That's really great. I hope he comes back soon, Quinn could use some help, and she could give him a pretty good job." Kurt said, sitting down next to the disheveled brunette.

"Mmhm. I can't wait for him to come back. I feel so left out with you and Blaine, and everyone being so happy with their relationships." She sighed, leaning back onto the couch.

"You should hang out with Quinn more. I think that—

The lights flickered. Kurt and Rachel both sat upright, and Blaine's eyes flew immediately to the ceiling. They flickered again, but this time, the lights stayed on. Kurt squealed. "We have power!"

He then proceeded to run to the bathroom to re-clean the clothes that he wasn't sure of. Rachel shook her head at her friend and followed him up, Blaine close behind her. Rachel sat up re-reading Finn's letter for another hour before she fell asleep with it clutched in her hand.

* * *

><p>"I'm really sorry, Quinn. I found my letter and I uh I just can't work here. I got the spot you know, and I uh, I really can't make it in time…" Chandra trailed off. She knew that she had really disappointed Quinn, but on the bright side, the orange haired girl had gotten the lead role in her musical. Finally, Quinn nodded in understanding.<p>

"That's okay, I guess. I understand that the musical means a lot to you."

Chandra nodded. "So uh, I'm just going to go…" with that, she left the office.

Quinn put her head in her hands. Now she only had three employees. Since the power came back on, her boss was finally able to allow some employees to come over to New York, but only five had accepted. Quinn still had seven more people to hire by the 20th, which was only three days away. Suddenly, her Samsung rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Quinn! Come here now, they're having auditions for this movie called uh, Rachel what's it called again?" Kurt yelled, covering up the speaker on his phone.

"Uh… Para something?" Rachel called from the background.

"Paranormalcy!" Kurt exclaimed. "Yes, that's it. There are auditions for a main character down somewhere in Brooklyn. We're dragging you with us, meet us at the Times Square 42nd street subway station. ASAP."

"I don't know, Kurt. I don't think I can come. I have a lot on my mind lately; I don't think I have time—

"Nonsense! Get your blonde butt down here RIGHT NOW or I will personally go over there and DRAG you!" Kurt yelled into the phone.

"Okay! Okay, I'm coming!" Quinn laughed, stuffing a couple of files into her purse and running out of her office.

"Hey, Quinn, where are you—

"No time to talk Erik, I'm going out. See ya!" Quinn called as she left the office to call a cab. She didn't notice the hurt face on Erik's face as she left him in the office.

Quinn rushed to Times Square, where Kurt and Rachel were waiting for her. They waved her over, and literally dragged her back to the subway. In five minutes, they were somewhere in Brooklyn. Kurt had pulled them over next to a bookshop to find the exact address.

"Hey look! Under the young adult section." Rachel pointed to the store in Book Nook. When she was in high school, it was known as Barnes and Noble, but they changed their name a couple years back. In the window as usual, was a list of books coming out soon. One of them was 'The Sight of Stars' by Santana Lopez.

"I wasn't aware that Santana knew how to write…" Kurt mumbled, staring at the list. Quinn knew. She had seen many of Santana's papers for the company, but she didn't know that Santana wrote stories. She immediately sent a photo to Santana.

Then, Quinn used her phone to look up the book online. There was a preview on BN's website. Quinn took the time to read it as Kurt and Rachel dragged her to the location of the auditions, where she kept reading it until it was her turn to audition. Looking up, a man was standing there.

"Follow me, Miss." He said in a gruff voice. She nodded and got up, following him into the theater. The curtains were dark blue instead of velvet red. Gold tassels still hung from the bottom, and a part of it jutted out, probably where the orchestra should be during a performance.

Quinn followed the man out the other door, into a blank room. The walls were white with a few corkboards on them. A single desk covered with paper sat at one end of the room, along with a couple producers, the screenplay writer, and the director. Gulping, Quinn smiled at them.

"Hello. My name is Lucy Quinn Fabray, and I will be auditioning for the role of Evie." Quinn was told to perform a scene, which she did. By the time she was done, everyone at the table was nodding approvingly, except for a lady in a purple suit.

"I can't believe you did it!" Kurt gushed. "Of course, I knew you had it in you but Quinn!" he hugged her. "You're going to be in a movie!"

"Calm down, Kurt." Quinn giggled. "I haven't gotten the spot _yet_."

"Oh, but you will." Rachel couldn't help being happy for her friend. Everything was turning out to be so perfect again, it was almost as if all her hard work had finally paid off. That meant hours of annoying Klaine (yes, she refers to them as Klaine now) about constantly practicing their scales and pitch, even though she knew they had them perfected. It didn't hurt to practice.

Quinn smiled. "Look, I really have to get back to the office now, I have a couple interviews that I had Erik cover for me. I don't want to overwork anyone…"

Kurt and Rachel nodded in understanding. "Okay, we'll see you soon!" Rachel yelled after her. Quinn walked back to the subway station, where she used her metro card to get on the M train heading to Bronx. Right when she got off the subway, she spotted a little girl, about nine years old, with what looked like her friend and her friend's mom. Quinn wouldn't have paid any attention to her, but there was one thing that caught her eye—the girl's eyes were exactly the same as her own. Quinn's breath stopped, and the girl looked back at her. Then, the doors slid shut and the subway sped away.

Quinn shook herself out of her daze and head up out of the station. _That couldn't have been Beth, could it?_

* * *

><p><strong>March 17, 2019<strong>

A gunshot fired. Finn dropped to the ground. Their base was being attacked. He grabbed his gun and vest off the wall. Then, he scurried out of his tent. Eve was behind a truck, firing at a man who stood behind a truck that had pulled into base. Finn joined Eve. Chester was behind the car next to them, not daring to join them. A man was shooting randomly in between the cars, hoping to get at a random soldier.

"Finn! Look out!" Chester yelled. Finn ducked his head down behind the car, just as a bullet whizzed past.

"Thanks!" Finn yelled back. There was a crash as a bullet penetrated a window. Eve ducked as the second window shattered. Then, she stuck her gun up onto the opening and shot. There were a few yells as a couple assaulters fell to the ground. Then she shoved Finn's head so that it was behind the door.

"You're too tall for your own good." She muttered. Then she crouched under the car and shot a few bullets at the enemy's feet. A few fell and screamed in pain. Finn loaded his gun and did the same, with similar results. Eve was better, of course. Chester was on the other side by himself shooting like hell. This was the first time Finn had seen Chester in live action, and he was very good. He was constantly shooting at the enemy or warning others about oncoming shots.

A few hand grenades blew up a couple meters away from Finn, sending several soldiers behind the car next to him to fly up into the air and land with a _thump_ on their backs.

Eve grabbed the collar of Finn's shirt and dared to drag him to the same car that Chester was behind. The trio worked to fend off the enemy. A dozen or so more shots rang out, and the windows of their car cracked and broke into thousands of pieces. Finn aimed his gun through the opening and shot a couple times. Suddenly, there was an excruciating pain in his right shoulder. A huge scarlet dot was forming, seeping through his clothes. That was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

* * *

><p>Rachel finished her song. Kyle was standing in front of the stage, nodding in approval. Chandra came onto the stage, and started the scripted conversation. Rachel replied just the way that was scripted. The scene ended.<p>

"Okay everyone, that's enough for today. We're going to keep practicing this tomorrow, practice those songs!" Kyle called.

Kurt came from the makeup room backstage and wiped all of the stuff off. He and Rachel exited the theater. Quinn was standing in front of the theater, with a huge smile on her face.

"I got the part!" she yelled. That sent both Broadway fanatics screaming happily. They both ran up and practically tackled Quinn with hugs. Rachel was pretty sure that the entire street was staring at them. Honestly, she didn't care.

"My little Quinn's growing up!" Kurt squealed. "She's going to be in a movie!" he then hugged Quinn again. Rachel too, was grinning widely.

Chandra, who had just exited the theater, walked up to Quinn.

"Hey, can I ask what this is about?" she asked politely, smiling at Quinn.

"I got the part in a movie I tried out for." She smiled.

"Congratulations!" Chandra cried. She hugged Quinn too, and left.

"Come on, we're having a party at our place." Rachel said, grabbing Quinn's wrist. "You can stay in our guest room too, while you're at New York."

"Really? Thank you guys so much!" Quinn smiled, hugging both of them.

They headed down to Times Square and took the subway back down to their apartment, where Blaine was sitting on the couch. He got up and looked at Quinn, then to Kurt and Rachel, then back at Quinn.

"Can someone explain what's happening?" he asked, confused.

"Quinn got—

"A part in a MOVIE!" Kurt finished for Rachel.

"Congrats!" Blaine smiled. "You know, we have some champagne in our cupboard if you guys want to celebrate…"

"Yes!" Rachel squealed.

"Rach? No stealing boyfriends tonight!" Kurt joked as Blaine poured them each a glass. Rachel didn't respond, she had already texted Santana and Brittany to 'get their butts over here RIGHT NOW'.

"Here's to us!" Rachel smiled as she held up her glass.

* * *

><p>Santana and Brittany were there within ten minutes. They too, hugged and congratulated Quinn.<p>

"Does that mean you're quitting the company?" Santana asked.

"Probably." Quinn smiled. Santana nodded. The group turned on the TV, hoping to get caught up on the news after the blackout. The 6:00 news started with the update on the post-blackout things, and then it moved onto something that made Rachel freeze. There had been a raiding on a military base that was situated somewhere in Africa; it was probably raided by pirates or terrorists of some sort. It was the military base that Finn was at.

"Isn't that where Finn's at?" asked Kurt. "Rachel?" he turned to face the brunette. Her brown eyes were blank and staring at the TV. Suddenly, her phone buzzed, shaking her out of her trance.

The words 'you have a new message' were printed in black text on her screen. Rachel tapped it and went to her email. There was one from the military.

_Dear Mrs. Hudson, _

_Your husband Finn has been severely wounded in battle today. He had a torn shoulder muscle and a few cracked bones. He will be returning home for treatment tomorrow. He is still alive, but we are not sure if the bullet shot at him tore through his lung or not. Chances are that it did not, but if it did, your husband might die. We wish you the best of luck._

Rachel dropped the phone and burst into tears.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, maybe that was a little TOO mean to leave you guys hanging like that... mwahahah :). I saw Wicked on Broadway for spring break! :D just felt like rubbing that in... it was AMAZING. Though I could probably never write a chapter as good as Wicked, I can still ask you to review! Love me? click that little blue button down there. Hate me? Click it anyways... you know you want to :3.<em>

_EDIT: one more thing... check out Spencer Criss's ff account.. she's got some really good stories up there! http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/3663297/_

_Review! *lessthanthree*_


	3. Author's Note

_Okay; I'm really sorry about this guys, but I'm seriously out of ideas for this story D: I mean I have a few and the next chapter is partially written, but currently I think some characters are too OOC ish and It really doesn't have a plot... so throw in some ideas for me and I will try to re-write this for yall (Because I love you 3) Basically I'm going on hiatus... i guess? It's not the best story I've written, but I don't want to delete it so..._

_I will be working on other stories though, so this is going to be a slow hiatus. a really slow hiatus. _

_Unless I get Superman motivation. So uh... that's up to you lovely readers :3_

_*lessthanthree*_


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